I Didn't Want to Dance Anymore
by yulchii
Summary: Where the Sage is a meddling old geezer and Madara is a Kurosaki.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** Where the Sage is a meddling old geezer and Madara is a Kurosaki.

 **Disclaimer:** Neither Naruto nor Bleach is mine.

 **Warnings:** Language, shinobi and Madara.

 **Rating:** T

 **Word Count:** 3270

 **Author's Note:** I'm writing this to improve my skills in English language. I don't know if it will be continued. It may or it may not. If you don't like it, don't read it. If you saw some mistakes please point them out to me. If you have some advice, I'm open to any suggestions. It applies to all the future chapters. Thank you.

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 **Chapter 1**

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The first time he became aware that something went wrong with his death (and how could something go _wrong_ with _death_?) was when he woke up.

He gazed around quickly, cataloguing everything he could use to his advantage, his fight or kill (because there was no _flight_ in his vocabulary, he would win or he would die and that was it) instinct going haywire.

There was an endless darkness around him. He could see his body just fine (and it was his old body, his skin was wrinkled and his hair was white and his bones _ached_ ) but everything else was just black.

And then when he was quietly wondering if that was to be his punishment for every deed he has done in his life (plus Edo Tensei deeds and post Edo Tensei deeds), a voice cut through his thoughts.

"It is not so, Uchiha Madara."

He whirled around (well, as much as his old body allowed him to whirl) and would have jumped if he was anyone else. As it was his eyes widened dramatically and his lips parted a little.

Then he frowned.

"You're... Otsutsuki Hagoromo. Rikudo Sennin." He stated flatly, his voice more of a rasp than the smooth baritone he last remembered having. The Sennin was floating in a lotus position six feet away from him, his expression serene, his shakujō in one hand.

The Sage inclined his head, "Indeed." Silence followed that confirmation but Madara was patient. He will wait for the explanation.

He waited for the explanation for all of five seconds.

"What is going on." He demanded briskly.

"You were cheated by the black creature and followed the instructions it left, thinking they were mine. It was not so. I should have known about it abhorrent presence. I should have expected my mother to leave something like that behind. For my lack of vigilance, you have my apologies." Here he slowly lowered his head a little. The Uchiha nodded slowly.

"What am I doing here then." He gestured around them at the dark abyss. "You said that it is not my punishment. Then what is it? A _reward_?" He mocked, surely not. Surely, for nearly taking over the world and while at it killing a lot of people wasn't something to be praised.

"It is not. I myself brought you here. It is..." Here the Sage hesitated slightly, only for a few seconds but still. "Personal. Yes, that is the correct word. You are the reincarnation of my elder son, Indra. That means that, in a way, you are my child." He fell quiet.

Madara's frown became more pronounced, "Well, what of it?" He asked harshly.

The Sennin sighed and closed his eyes as if in pain. "I may have wronged Indra in some way, when I completely ignored him when it came to carrying on my legacy." He grimaced and continued, shooting Madara a reproachful look when he opened his mouth to interrupt once more. "That's why I want you to have a second chance." Madara felt himself go numb.

A second chance? What does that mean? A thousand possibilities flew through his mind all at once.

The Sage continued, "I will place you in a world without shinobi and the constant bloodshed that has followed them through generations."

Madara actually could feel himself hesitating but in the end he slowly shook his head. "No. I want to see my family. I want to see Izuna." He would have liked one more shot at living a happier life but he wished to see his brother more. A pity, truly, a chance like that and he refuses. But he missed Izuna and the Uchihas _were_ sentimental, no matter the fact that others thought them incapable of even the basic of human emotions (it wasn't all that surprising, what with the typical impassive Uchiha default face nearly everyone in the clan acquired one way or another), so-

The Sage looked at him with surprise and... was that a trace of sheepishness? "Forgive me but it seems you misunderstood me." Madara straightened his back and scowled automatically because he didn't like the sound of this. "For I have already placed you in a this world." Wow, Madara wanted to wring that pale neck _so_ bad.

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By some weird _coincidence_ (it was no fucking coincidence, it was the Sage, it had to be), he was named Madara again. Kurosaki Madara.

Madara wished he didn't remember his rebirth. It was a _traumatic_ experience. He still felt rather squeamish about it. And who wouldn't? Being pushed out of a woman's vagina did that to a man. He shuddered at the mere thought.

The mother of this body wasn't that bad, he decided after his eyesight cleared enough to finally see her whole and in detail. The woman was a good parent, if a bit frantic and she worried constantly (the body he inhabited was _so_ obviously her first child) and quite easy on the eyes.

On the other hand, the man... He was a complete moron. Madara always disliked morons. Hashirama was a moron but he had some qualities that made him worth putting up with his idiocy, he was a strong and good leader (although he would rather die than admit it but, well, he died so the point was moot) and one of the only ones to fight him toe to toe.

This man had no such qualities. He was an idiot and a klutz and he wailed dramatically about everything, being mushy and generally unbearable. But Madara could feel something about the man. And sometimes, when the man held himself differently, his stupidly happy face melted into a serious business face and Madara _couldn't put his finger on it_ but it was there, damnit! The feeling. The inner strength. It was there or it used to be, at least. Because Madara could spot fighters from a mile away and this man used to be a fighter. He was well built, a bit too bulky for a ninja who needed to be stealthy and quiet, but still a fighter.

But no matter what, Madara couldn't stand idiotic weaklings. He _despised_ them. He was _allergic_ to them. That was the truth. He respected and tolerated Hashirama but he still didn't like him. So it wasn't really a surprise that he didn't tolerate this body's father. He mainly just ignored him and tried to regain some mobility.

On top of that, he could feel some unknown energy in the air and in his body. Of course, there was his chakra (and it was the same amount as when he died the first time, _thank god_ ) but there was also _something else_. He planned to discover what exactly it was and then how exactly does one use it to fight. His plan was to regain his former strength and more on top of that, after all.

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He was ready to go on, back then. To meet with his family in heaven or boil in the deepest pits of hell in his personal VIP cauldron full of acid that ate away at his skin and bones or even the combination of the two above because _Kami fucking knew_ his family wasn't full of saints.

He expected those outcomes. He could even say that he felt nervous anticipation and slight apprehension (not fear, never fear, Uchihas did not _do_ fear). He was ready.

What he wasn't ready for was the Rikudo Sennin himself sticking his nose in his life (or was it death, now that he wasn't alive?) and fucking with it. And, what the _actual_ hell, you meddlesome old man? (He stubbornly ignored a voice in his head telling him that he was a hypocrite because he was both an old man and his meddling, even after his death, nearly brought the world to its knees.) He was supposed to finally get a break from the hectic life he led! He was dead, after all, and deserved his rest!

He wanted a little peace, damnit! Not the let's-live-a-nice-life-with-our-dead-loved-ones-inside-our-heads kind of peace which he hoped to achieve through the Mugen Tsukuyomi but the honest to Kami my-old-bones-ache-I-just-want-to-sleep-and-never-wake-up-again kind of peace.

Well, Madara thought, it could always be worse. He gazed at the dancing fool that called himself this body's sperm donor and conceded after a second because no, this sucked Tobirama's _sweaty balls_.

And as with everything he ever wanted or desired was it really such a surprise that he didn't get what he wished for?

Instead of death he gets, well, life! When he wanted to live, he died and when he wanted to stay dead he lives?! What the flying fuck, Hagoromo?

He stopped this train of thought because it was slowly bordering on brooding, his face scrunching into a frown and the idiot in front of him always bawled when he directed his Uchiha scowl at him.

Not that he cared about the idiot or anything.

"Look at daddy, little man! Aren't I just the funniest daddy on the planet, huh? Madara?" The stupid dance was once again performed by the cretin and gods, Madara felt embarrassed just by being in the man's presence. They were in public place, couldn't he at least pretend to be normal?

He glanced around from his seat in the trolley. They were in a supermarket and this body's mother got distracted by some product and left him with the idiot. Madara closed his eyes, praying for her to return because the dance was turning more ridiculous. Additionally, the man lifted him from his trolley seat and started twirling him around, spinning with him in his dance and generally disregarding the fact that his son ate just half-an-hour ago.

Madara felt himself turning green.

"Son! No! Hold it in! Don't-!" And he threw up. And despite the little tears in his eyes, Madara was vindictively pleased with the result because the man was silent and still and his aim was still excellent, no matter the weapon. Vomit was a projectile weapon, no matter what anyone else says.

He chuckled and even if it sounded more like a childish giggle the evilness and a sense of accomplishment was heard by the male who would have dismissed it if not for the face of his son which was one of utterly no regret, an eyebrow raised as if to say 'what are gonna do?'.

The arrival of the third member of their little trip interrupted their staring match.

"Isshin! I told you not to aggravate him! You know how grumpy he is! And right after he ate! What were you thinking?" And as Madara was lifted from the man's arms and placed in his mother's, he put his chin on her shoulder and as she turned away with a huff, the corners of his lips ticked up and his dark eyes glinted.

And Isshin would swear to his death he saw his son smirk at him.

"But-but Masaki!" He shouted after her. "He did it on purpose!" His only answer was her unimpressed look. "He smirked at me, Masaki!"

"Sure he did." She muttered and quickened her pace. Isshin stood rooted in place and then promptly dropped to his knees and wailed.

"MAASAAAKIII!"

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Two years after he was pushed out of this woman's vagina, another child met the same fate. Hopefully, he won't remember it. Madara didn't wish those horror memories on innocent people.

"It's your little brother. His name is Kurosaki Ichigo." He wanted to snarl that the only little brother he will ever acknowledge is Izuna but his whole heart wouldn't be in it as he already more or less accepted the fact that he isn't Izuna's brother biologically anymore. And _damn_ , wasn't that a depressing thought.

Though Madara had a hunch, from the first glance he took at the disfigured, pink thing with a tuft of orange hair (the hell?) resting in the woman's arms, that his life was about to be turned on its head. His hunches were rarely wrong.

He didn't want to involve himself with these people. At all. But somehow... Somehow he started to grudgingly accept this family and he mentally added them to the list of _his_ people. His to spend time with and protect.

It was... Nice, he supposed. Nice to simply have someone there. And he had two (three if he counted Isshin _, the moron_ ) someones.

Sometimes he truly wanted to thank the old geezer for sending him to this world.

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Sometimes he truly wanted to rip out the old geezer's spine and gut him with it.

"-least try to be friendly and make friends with other kids!" His mother tried to hug him but he easily sidestepped the embrace, scowling thunderously. She sighed, gave a little smile and stood up. And then she walked away.

It was four years since he was dumped here by the meddling fool and he would have taken great pleasure in strangling him with his own intestines.

Madara was gritting his teeth and glaring a hole in the back of Masaki's head for taking him here. To this hell. What did he even do in his past life to deserve that? Oh, wait, never-fucking-mind. He would rather boil in hell than be forced to spend time in the presence of these screaming monsters.

The little spawns of Satan reminded him of the Senju children and it was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

His... Guardian (he refused to call her mother right now because he _trusted_ her and she _betrayed_ him) thought it was a good idea for him to attend something similar to the Academy. Only it wasn't the Academy because there were no shinobi around. And in his humble opinion it wasn't a school because frankly, this place had nothing to offer him in the this department. He already read every book he could reach in the house and his chakra control has gotten better so he could get books from the higher shelves as well.

This new world was interesting, he was fascinated by nearly everything. The science was in a whole different level here, the same to nearly everything. There were multiple languages, cultures and religions. It was amazing.

This world was something else.

That idiot Hashirama would have liked it.

Madara scowled, where has that ridiculous thought come from? He shook his head, focusing on his surroundings once again.

Kindergarten was the worst place imaginable. The children were loud and clumsy. They cried when they tripped and they needed to be constantly watched in case they accidentally stuck a crayon up their noses or ate dirt. They were carefree and ignorant. They clearly didn't know war. Or anything, really.

And Masaki left him here for the next few hours.

He. Was not. Pleased. At. All.

... Though Hashirama would have really liked it.

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He was labelled as genius early on because _of course_ he was. He wasn't going to sit and study something as simple as writing , counting and basically repeating everything he already knew. It would be unbearable and demeaning.

His mother (he was back to calling her that, she made some _mean_ inarizushi) was delighted. Her husband wailed about having a little prodigal son and then promptly tripped down the stairs.

His mother agreed to bumping him up a few grades and soon he was sitting in class with children four years older. He was still unimpressed with the material and thought about requesting another test to put him in more advanced class but his mother was worried that he would lose his friends and didn't want him to join even older kids.

He called bullshit.

He didn't have friends either way. He made himself clear at the very beginning of his stay in this class about what would be tolerated and what would _not_. He wasn't too pleased when the eight year olds _tried_ to treat him like a baby or belittle him.

So he shoved them up in academics. And when they thought they could push him around and demand his lunch (it was _inarizushi_ ) he showed them that it was a bad, _bad_ idea.

They thought they could steal lunch from _Uchiha Madara_ , enough said. And even though he was an adult inside, Madara was never known to be merciful. But that was the old him. And killing wasn't really tolerated in here. So he did the next best thing. He beat them black and blue.

The teacher never knew who put them into hospital and the four victims were too scared of the consequences to babble. Madara knew they won't tattle. It was soon assumed that it was the job of the local Karakura thugs.

Nobody looked at the four year old twice.

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He started training once he could move his body. It was only stretches at the beginning but he slowly started on his katas, the Uchiha clan katas and the ones he himself created.

He also started training with his chakra and was absolutely delighted because he could activate his Sharingan. And then he tried the Mangekyo but it didn't end well. He managed it but the strain on his little body was too big so he slept for two whole days. His mother thought it was the flu.

So he started slowly, baby steps. But of course, in _Madara's_ perception, that meant normal ninja chakra-influenced leaps.

He was lucky that this body was so similar in built to his past one from when he was a child, not too tall or too short. The limbs were all sleek, but not fully formed, muscles and not bulky or delicate with baby fat.

His face was different than the one of Uchiha Madara though. It had the aristocratic features alright (the high cheekbones and eyebrows) but it was still different. His face was a little longer, chin more pointy. His nose was still a little button that his mother liked to call cute but he will grow into his looks more in a few more years.

Thankfully, his eyes were still as sharp as ever and the colour of charcoal grey, nearly black. His hair was black too, like it was in his past life.

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Madara sighed from where he was lying on his bed and tucked arms under his head. His bed was a comfortable one, with white sheets and tucked under the window.

He looked around his room. It was painted a dark blue color and the furniture was made of dark wood. There were books neatly stacked on the desk and in one big bookcase which addressed many different things, from biology to astronomy and even the art of origami. Everything that caught his interest was there.

There were also many notebooks hidden around the room and tucked in between the books which contained some illegible doodles and numbers. But the ones with Uchiha blood would recognize and lift the Genjutsu placed on them. And only Madara himself would be able to read it anyway, as all of the notes were written in a code he came up with.

The notes contained everything he remembered and copied with his eyes (it was a lot, especially with the Sharingan fully functioning and himself being a genius). That information would come in handy if he ever forgot anything (doubtful) or needed to simply relax and remind himself that _no, he was not mad_ and _no, he has not thought the shinobi world up_.

He slowly closed his eyes and drifted off into a light (because shinobi habits die hard and enemy could take advantage of his inattention and gut him) slumber.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Summary:** Where the Sage is a meddling old geezer and Madara is a Kurosaki.

 **Disclaimer:** Neither Naruto nor Bleach is mine.

 **Warnings:** Language, shinobi and Madara.

 **Rating:** T

 **Word Count:** 3353

 **Author's Note:** I don't plan on any pairings in this fic. In actuality, I don't plan on anything here. I don't really know where I'm going with it. Don't let your hopes up too much about this. That said, thank you for all the positive reviews, favorites and follows anyway.

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 **Chapter 2**

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Madara was, first and foremost, shinobi. That meant that his ability to blend in was _pretty freaking good_. Madara was a narcissistic asshole though, so his opinion may be a little biased.

In reality, Madara had all subtlety of a rampaging Uzumaki. He would rather hit first and ask questions never. He was also too straightforward and blunt. He would fail spectacularly if he was ever to be sent on an infiltration mission.

Madara liked to say that he was just a front fighter and heavy hitter. And while that was true, it didn't change the fact that Madara sucked at acting (not that he would _ever_ admit such).

That said, Madara wasn't stupid and was perfectly aware that knowing how to kick ass of adults three times his weight and height was rather suspicious.

So he asked for lessons in self-defense. His mother was all too happy to send him to the nearby Karate dojo, pushing him inside in hopes that he would finally make a friend.

No such chance. His rapid learning pace stirred up quite a lot of resentment amongst the other kids . And he was the youngest there, him being four (the second youngest was seven years old) so beating up the older kids (that is seven to eleven year olds), did not endear him to them.

There were older ones, in more advanced class (they were a group consisting of children from twelve to fifteen) that were nice to him at the beginning but once it was made clear that he would soon be joining them, they weren't so enthusiastic to have him around anymore.

Madara didn't mind.

He was quite content with his life as it was. He didn't need friends. His family was all he needed.

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Once upon a time, when his mother took him and Ichigo to the park and to the playground to play and in hopes of finding him a friend (he was rather exasperated with her, why did she think that he needed a friend anyway?). Ichigo promptly dashed over to the sandbox, their mother following him after throwing one last look at Madara.

Madara himself slowly padded over to the benches and sat on one of the empty ones, away from the gossiping housewives who were giving him cursory looks and cooing about him being adorable. He barely contained his classic Uchiha sneer in time but his face still twisted in distaste.

He looked away from them and glanced around. His gaze eventually stopped at the form of a black cat. _Ugh_. (He hated them with burning passion, they were useless (couldn't track, unlike dogs) and their piss fucking stank, he knew because Izuna adored the little demons and enjoyed bringing them to the clan's camps and the creatures always found something belonging to him that they could piss on. Cats were also arrogant, disobedient, self-centered assholes. He skillfully ignored the voice in his head telling him that _that was the exact description of himself, Uchiha Madara_. It _wasn't_. At all.) The feline was looking up at the bench and meowing, huge yellow eyes glinting in the sun (yes, Madara had excellent sight, if he did say so himself, and he did, and he could see the little details, like the colour of eyes of such small animal). Madara's eyes immediately darted over to the spot the cat was looking at.

There was a woman sitting there, looking around with a nostalgic air about her and sporting a reminiscing smile on her face. She was average looking, brown hair pinned up in a bun and chocolate eyes and about thirty years of age. She was wearing a simple grey skirt and a white blouse. She looked like a typical Japanese clerk or something like that, Madara didn't really care.

And she had a chain dangling from her chest.

He looked around but nobody was giving the woman a second glance. Wait, no, some couple was walking over to her... And they promptly sat on her. Madara's eyebrows flew up. Even shinobi such as him wouldn't do that as they had the basics of manners ingrained in them (they would threaten first with a kunai, rather than completely ignore her presence and sit on her).

But then he looked closer and the woman stood up. By passing through the man that sat on her. Madara could feel a headache coming but he was feeling too incredulous to even be annoyed at it because, _what_. What.

He placed a minor Genjutsu on his face and activated his Sharingan, frowning. The energy of the old lady was... Bigger and brighter than what he was used to seeing in other people (not counting Ichigo who was a little beacon of light, he thought haughtily).

Madara read a lot of books already and watched a lot of scientific programs on TV (amazing, that thing, he liked it quite a lot, so much information, send in a short amount of time to all the places on Earth) and knew that something like that wasn't normal around here.

He looked around once more but to his confusion found that no one was even looking at the female. It was almost as if they couldn't see it.

Madara wasn't an idiot, people weren't normally supposed to walk around with chains hanging from their chests (he didn't count the Uzumakis but even those red-haired menaces knew, at least subconsciously, how to retreat their chains into themselves, but this lady didn't look like she was from the Uzumaki clan, never mind the fact that they were extinct and this was a completely different world).

He knew something was up and his mother (who walked up to him just now, most likely to invite him to build sandcastles or something, and no, just, no) quickly caught onto the fact that he was staring into the space rather intensely. She knew him good enough by now to know the difference between the times when he was thinking absently, not focusing on anything in particular and when he was really staring at something.

It didn't take her too long to force the answer out of him (though it wasn't so much as force, as bribe with inarizushi which she noticed he was rather partial to, damn now she has leverage over him).

He reluctantly admitted to seeing the lady. And as opposed to his dreaded imagination where his mother would start squealing about imaginary friends (and wow, even in his mind she sounded excited at the fact that he made even one friend, never mind that it was an imaginary, older and a female one, and isn't he just a sad, pitiful human being?) she regarded him rather seriously and sighed.

And then started to slowly explain to him that what he was seeing was a dead woman (what) and that she was a soul (double what) and that it was hereditary in their family. He immediately asked if she could do it and she nodded. He then asked about Isshin and she shook her head with a sad little smile, murmuring "not anymore" as she carded her fingers through his hair.

Then his gaze zeroed in on his younger brother, still in the sandbox with some other children and his mother followed his gaze.

"Yes. I'm sure he can see them as well but he's still too young to really understand. I will explain it to him when he's older. For now he's still too young." And Madara slowly nodded, agreeing with her silently and she gifted him with another one of her sunny smiles.

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The Karate practices were a joke and definitely not enough for him. They were too soft and too short. In his old life he spent entire weeks in the training grounds, sometimes not sleeping for a few days.

But now he couldn't because his parents didn't know that he was secretly a fucking _ninja_ who nearly took over his world and was reborn as their _son_ (and was old as dirt, to boot) and he didn't feel like sharing this story with them. Or anyone, really.

So he did as much as he could get away with. He exercised every day for a few hours but since he started school his schedule was getting tighter and he often sacrificed a few hours of sleep on meditating and honing in his chakra control. It was nothing he couldn't handle but there were bags already forming under his eyes from too little sleep and he wondered if they will be nearly as permanent as they were in his previous life.

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"Aniki!" Was the happy squeak that greeted him when he and his mother, who picked him up from practice (because apparently he was too young to go home alone and _what_. In his old world and at four years old, he was already sent to the battlefield, the differences between the two worlds never were so clear), opened the front door.

"We're home!" His mother called softly while he grunted and ignored her amused smile and her delicate hand that ruffled his hair.

He let his mother enter first (he may have been a psychopath (and he may still be) but he was a gentleman… sometimes), entered himself and closed the door. He then carefully went about removing his shoes and arranging them neatly to the side.

His little brother couldn't contain himself anymore and bounced up to him. The two year old squeaked again in glee and threw his arms around his middle. Madara clumsily patted his head a few times, not really knowing what to do (many years of absolutely no human contact after Izuna's death (not counting unfriendly shinobi - there were _a lot_ of these - and other hostiles - Tobirama, the _bastard -_ ) and then his isolation in the cave would do that to a man, plus the fact that he was fucking _ancient_ comparison to even his parents) but _wanting_ to do better by Ichigo than he did by Izuna. _Gods_ , he took Izuna's _eyes._ That wasn't something a good big brother would do.

After three seconds of that Madara disengaged himself from the hug and stepped back. He wasn't one for prolonged shows of affection.

Ichigo _pouted_. Madara looked away, knowing that this was the weapon his brother wielded with enviable ease. The look was a truly magnificent weapon, it was unfortunate that Madara couldn't use it himself, his face was incapable of doing _that_ particular expression (come to think of it, his face was incapable of doing _most_ expressions, as it was usually twisted in a scowl, a frown or entirely blank, sometimes he allowed a smirk to cross his lips but that was it, wow, that was just sad, wasn't it).

"I must complete my homework now, Ichigo. Go play in the living room?" He suggested, passing by the toddler and mussing his hair. He briskly started making his way up the stairs to his room, mind already on the math problems (well, not _really_ problems, not to him) when his mother's voice stopped him.

"Madara! Ichigo! Tomorrow we will be visiting your daddy's friend!" She called, her voice bubbly and full of happiness and Madara swore. Quietly. Inside his head. _What_? His mother had surprisingly good hearing, he would never hear the end of it if she caught him swearing.

Tomorrow was Saturday. That meant no school and no Karate practice which he could have shielded himself with. Damn. No excuses for him to use. He could fake being sick but Madara wasn't one to back away from a challenge… but he didn't want to meet the idiot's friends.

Madara frowned and resumed his trek up the stairs.

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The next day, his mother choose his clothes and he, the good son that he was, decided to indulge the woman and actually put them on.

She choose black slacks and white shirt for him, with red t-shirt under that and some red trainers. She squealed like a schoolgirl when she saw him and ran for the camera.

She herself was wearing a white sundress with flowers on it.

His father (ugh) once again proved to be a complete moron who wouldn't know style if it hit him in the face and dressed himself in a Hawaiian shirt and matching shorts. He then proceeded to put on scandals on his feet, which were already in white socks.

Madara was thankful that his mother took that exact moment to storm to the man and take him by the ear to get him some more respectable clothes.

He still came out wearing the shirt but at least with slacks and normal black shoes. Judging by the face his mother was pulling, she was as exasperated with the man as he was.

His brother was dressed by her too, he knew from the first glance he took of the boy. Ichigo was shuffling down the stairs slowly, his expression_ slightly disturbed. He was dressed similarly to him, the only exception being that his t-shirt had a drawing of some cars on it and he was holding a lion plush toy in his hand.

And his mother was going crazy with the camera, lights flashing every second.

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"Welcome. The manager is waiting. Please follow me." Was said the moment the door to the shop opened by a tall black glasses wearing man in a blue apron.

The man lead them to the sitting room and disappeared. There they met a blond man wearing a green and white stripped bucket hat and green kimono. The stranger was sitting at the table in the centre of the room.

His father grinned and gestured to his children, "Ah, Kisuke! Look, this here is Madara, my oldest! And next to him is Ichigo, my little strawberry! And of course, you know Masaki already! Kids, that's daddy's friend, Urahara Kisuke." He proclaimed.

The man smiled back, taking out a fan and starting to fan himself.

"Welcome, Isshin-san, Masaki-san! And Madara-kun and Ichigo-kun too!"

Madara grunted quietly, eyes roving around the room but never entirely leaving the slouched figure of the shopkeeper. His mother nudged him insistently but he ignored it, stepping out of her reach.

"Thank you for having us, Urahara-san. Don't mind him, it's just his nature to be a grumpy little old man." She said happily, putting in energy so her smile was extra shiny and sparkly, compensating entirely for his rude behaviour.

But the man didn't seem to mind at all, waving the issue away. He gestured for them to sit on the pillows located around the room and the black man reappeared with tea.

Urahara Kisuke was certainly _not_ an idiot, Madara decided. The man _acted_ like it, sure, what with the theatrics, stupid jokes and obnoxious laughter but his grey eyes were glittering with intelligence and the fan was preventing anyone from seeing the emotions displayed on his face.

He was reluctantly impressed (just a little) with the man's sheer willpower to stick to his cover.

 _He_ would never lower himself to playing the eccentric weirdo just so people would underestimate him. Madara didn't like being underestimated anyway. He preferred to let the enemy know that he was in for some serious shit right from the beginning rather than beat around the bush and circle around like some green Genin.

Besides, he was a child already, he saw no use in being disregarded even more than he was already.

His staring was quickly caught by his mother though, who admonished him gently, "Madara, stop glaring, it's rude." But he wasn't even _attempting_ to, damnit!

He huffed and busied himself with his tea. It seems the legendary Uchiha glare of doom followed him even after death. Even if he wasn't trying to glare the look was seemingly permanently etched into his face muscles. His face that was just unable to seem as anything but hostile and scary.

"Uwaah! Your son has such scary face, Isshin-san!" Cried Urahara, the stupid fan covering his mouth which was no doubt turned up in a smile or a smirk. "Wonder where he got it! Not from Isshin-san, that's for certain! Which means..." His stare turned to the only woman in the room but quickly averted his eyes, a bead of sweat running down his neck and an awkward smile pulling at his lips. He started fanning himself in earnest.

Madara looked at his mother and saw nothing but a brilliant smile on her face. He cast her a little smile himself but it quickly vanished as he schooled his expression once more.

He didn't notice the killing intent practically oozing from his mother swirling in the air. Well, Uchihas were always a little blind to their faults and the faults of their loved ones. Besides, the killing intent was really quite weak, considering the enemies he faced in the past and his own bloodlust, it didn't even register on his radar.

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The rest of the visit passed in the same way with the adults joking and egging each other on. Ichigo fell asleep sometime and was snoring softly with his head in their mother's lap.

Madara would have been content to just sit back and watch if not for the strange energy he felt curling around and floating in the air. It was a strange energy, light and, almost, delicate. It was just spiritual energy, not chakra but a part of it. There was no physical side, which would make chakra.

The energy was similar to yin chakra, he knew. And it was really thick in this building, only felt when being inside because he would have felt this tight gathering of energy from miles away in a world like this, where there was hardly anything like it.

He focused his attention on the blond man without actually looking at him, just letting his senses expand and take everything in. Urahara was actually quite strong, if he was to judge him based on this energy alone, because he had a lot of it. Oh, he certainly knew how to hide it (because he would have crushed the civilians with his mere presence) but Madara knew when someone was weak and this man was anything but.

He forced down the sudden anxiety (at the level Madara's current body was at, he will get crushed by the shopkeeper) and stopped the maniacal grin that suddenly started tugging at his lips (at the level of this man's skills, in a few years (when he reached his former height) he could prove to be quite an opponent). And here he thought that there won't be anybody that could entertain him in this world but he barely steps outside his home and finds someone worth his notice! If things like these will keep happening, Madara just might get out more!

But then, at the end of their visit, when they were all outside already, Ichigo propped up on his father's hip, his mother standing close to Isshin and Madara slightly apart from them, after the _idiot_ man tried to lift Madara himself and carry him home because _he looked tired_. Ha. Suffice it to say, Madara snapped at the man and it would have ended in tears (for the cretin, of course) if Masaki, sparkling smile and all, had not intervened by grabbing Isshin and firmly planting herself between him and Madara.

And Madara _was not tired_ , damnit! He stubbornly lifted his head up and pried slowly closing eyes open once more. He ran his hand down his face, sighing but refraining from yawning because he will go home on his own, and he didn't need any help, thank you very- _fucking_ -much.

In the end, he slowly started stumbling along and when his mother offered him her hand he only grumbled for a minute and then took it without a word, his small and cold hand sliding into a bigger and warmer one. Maybe he was a little tired. Just a little.

It was probably tiredness that made him not notice the black cat winding itself between Urahara's legs, yellow eyes staring after him with intelligence.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Summary:** Where the Sage is a meddling old geezer and Madara is a Kurosaki.

 **Disclaimer:** Neither Naruto nor Bleach is mine.

 **Warnings:** Language, shinobi and Madara.

 **Rating:** T

 **Author's Note:** Thank you for all the reviews, favourites and follows. I would like to address one Guest review where someone said that Madara didn't take Izuna's eyes. Yes, I know that, but Madara and the Uchihas in general are an emotional bunch so I would think that he would blame himself for taking his brother's eyes. Now, I would like to apologize beforehand because even after reading on Reishi, Reiatsu and Reiryoku from bleachwiki a few times, I still don't think I understand it, not really. So I don't think I will be explaining it in the future and if I will, then it will most probably be incorrect but this is fanfiction so whatever.

 **Word Count:** 4882

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 **Chapter 3**

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Masaki knew her firstborn was very intelligent, perhaps a little too much, in the opinion of some of his teachers. And how dare they, her son is a little genius, there's nothing like _too_ smart in her opinion. Are they jealous of her small, four year old child? Idiots the lot of them. At the beginning of his schooling, they thought that he was too much of a smartass (they didn't _say_ that exactly but she _knew_ they meant it). And that's where she... couldn't _exactly_ disagree. Her son _was_ a smug little asshole, if she did say so herself.

They also said that he should stop arguing with teachers (he did that quite a lot) and asking questions (he did that too). She _didn't_ agree. If he had a valid reason, then he could argue with whomever he wants to and if he wants to learn something then why not help him by answering him? Were the teachers embarrassed about not knowing the answers to his queries or were they just being unhelpful? She huffed, annoyed and exasperated. What was with people these days.

And _then_ they pulled out the big guns and said that he won't make any friends with that attitude. Nonsense, she said, and it was. Madara was a _little_ grumpy and sometimes behaved like a little grandpa but that would hardly stop the kids from associating with him.

But he was even smarter than anyone gave him credit for and was placed into a class with children four years older.

She was both proud and terrified. After all, not many mothers could say that their son was a true genius. And her eldest was a certified prodigy. He soaked all the information like a sponge, learning quickly and efficiency.

Masaki often wondered if he had photographic memory, to be able to recite whole pages from books that he should have no business touching as they were way above his age (she wasn't talking about pornography, gods, no, just random things like psychology or history of Japan which well, weren't the type a four year old boy would even think about touching). But she could write it off as curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

It sometimes scared her because her son didn't behave like normal children did. When he was still just a baby, he didn't scream or cry like the books said every baby did. He wasn't clingy and he wasn't afraid of new things. He was rarely openly happy (yes, openly, because she just knew that he was sometimes amused by something but choose to hide it, why would a baby hide his happiness she didn't know) and he didn't smile too often.

She was guilty to admit that felt a little suspicious about his weird behaviour, sometimes wondering if her son wasn't an alien or a hollow or something because that just wasn't right. The need to constantly hide his emotions wasn't right. The incredible intelligence and quick mind and grasp of every situation wasn't right. What if something was possessing her son?

But those thoughts quickly flew out of her head as she remembered every time Madara received a praise from her or from Isshin. Madara's eyes would lit up and his lips would unwillingly pull up into a little, nearly invisible smile (when she praised him) or he would look to the side with a sniff, a corner of his lips twitching as if he was forcing down a smile (when Isshin praised him).

But the final confirmation that Madara was really her son came with the birth of Ichigo. Masaki remembered the first time she introduced Madara to his little brother and she knew that she will always have that day imprinted in her mind's eye. Madara practically glowed and for perhaps the first time, she saw a true smile blooming on his face. It was gone quickly but his grey eyes, normally near black and narrowed in annoyance were opened wider and he himself was in a good humour for the rest of the week.

Afterwards, she didn't have any doubts about him or his intentions. He loved his family (no matter what he did and said to Isshin). He adored Ichigo, no matter how many times he tried to deny it as just familial obligation, everyone saw how his eyes would always zero in on his little brother when he was in the vicinity and how he would be always there to help him. And he would hover. Oh, how he would hover. It was impossible, his stubbornness about helping Ichigo and protecting him from everything, even sadness. For example, Ichigo threw his plush toy across the room and would start to wail about its disappearance. Madara would immediately retrieve it just to have it thrown away again. Madara would retrieve it and the circle will repeat to the moment where Madara simply took the toy and held it out of his brother's reach. Then Ichigo will start crying even louder and use his cutest puppy dog eyes and Madara will quickly give it back to him with a sour look on his face. Only for Ichigo to throw the toy once more. Cue Misaki taking lots and lots of pictures.

Though Madara would quickly tire of the game fetch and go to his room and Misaki would let him, drawing Ichigo's attention away from his big brother.

She knew Madara wasn't a social child, he would rather stay in his room than spend time with people so she appreciated the time he spend with Ichigo, even if it was just an for a short while. He was surprisingly indulgent already, from what she knew of his short temper and even shorter patience.

He was also amusingly vulnerable to Ichigo's pouting face. Though she wasn't one to talk as there wasn't a single person that _wasn't_ vulnerable to it.

Masaki frowned, her thoughts diverting again. Speaking of vulnerability, Madara was surprisingly able to see ghosts despite the fact that she could feel only below average levels of Reiryoku from him. He was like a normal human, as if he _wasn't_ the son of a Shinigami and a Quincy. When he was born and she couldn't feel much energy coming from him she was both relieved and disappointed. Relieved because her son was safe, he won't get targeted by Hollows or found odd by anyone. Disappointed because, well, she was his mother and she hoped to pass on _some_ of her skills on to him.

Then, Ichigo was born and she noticed his high level of Reiryoku the very moment he was placed in her arms by the nurse. She thought she could always just teach Ichigo how to use a bow and his Quincy powers. _If_ they won't be overwhelmed by his Shinigami powers (and she wondered about that too because will he inherit them from Isshin or will he not?). _If_ he manifests them. Either of them.

She was wholly convinced that Madara will grow up to be a normal (if not frightfully intelligent and dryly sarcastic, she didn't know where he got it from, she herself knew that wasn't the sharpest tool in the box (oh, she wasn't stupid but neither was she the smartest and she knew it) and she didn't really do sarcastic and Isshin wasn't any different... he _could_ think but most of the time which they spent together, he simply didn't, at least not that she saw and she didn't hear him saying anything sarcastic, not once) and charmingly handsome man. He would be a lady killer, she just knew it. She squealed when she imagined how her cute little son would look like when he grew up. She was quite sure that he wouldn't have any competition in the looks department what with his parents both being drop dead gorgeous (she never said she was _humble_ and she appreciated Isshin's looks too).

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She was washing the dishes when she felt it. Madara's level of Spiritual Pressure rose suddenly from its normal count of near zero. It was just a little but nevertheless she _threw_ herself away from the sink and nearly slipped on the rug in the living room in her hurry to get to her son. She practically flew up the stairs and upon making it to the top, tripped over a little toy car Ichigo left lying around, sailed forward and banged her forehead into the wall. She scrambled back up off the floor and threw herself at her son's door, wrenching it open and stumbling inside, hands reaching for her baby before she even knew what she was doing. She pulled her black haired son into her arms and hugged tightly for a few seconds then pulled him back by his shoulders and started inspecting him for injuries.

Madara was looking at her, eyes wide, awareness slowly clearing away the bleary quality those orbs had but a few seconds before. A frown was already pulling his brows down. His dark eyes scanned the surroundings of his room suspiciously, alert and calculating, fingers twitching.

Masaki took in all this with only a cursory glance, more focused on his Reiatsu that was already fading away. Why was it fading so quickly? Was her son dying? She frantically checked the pulse on his wrist and dismissed it. Then why? What was going on? Was someone taking his energy? No, if that was so, they would have had to be around. They would have been around since his birth and she or Isshin would have noticed it. And if they did not, the shopkeeper, Isshin's friend, Urahara Kisuke, would have and he would have informed them about that. The only other way she could think of was if he was-

Masaki stopped. The only way... was if he was hiding it himself.

Masaki then looked down at her son who squirmed his way out of her hold by now and was steadily gazing back at her with those grey, nearly black, eyes.

"What happened, Haha-ue?" He asked and she opened her mouth to reassure him that absolutely nothing has happened and that everything was alright and sorry, she just needed a hug. She thought better and stayed silent for a few seconds, wondering how to phrase her question as to not offend him. Then she frowned because since when would Madara ever get offended by anything she said to him? He seemed to listen to every word she said with rapt attention and he always remembered what she said to him, be it a praise (given fairly often, as she has read that it worked positively on children), a reprimand (not all that often, mostly given out of her disappointment at his lack of social skills and friends). Madara soaked everything she said. She would have thought it a little creepy but she was too proud of him and his excellent memorization skills to actually contemplate it.

She thought about her options and gazed into the wide eyes of her firstborn, decision slowly strengthening behind her own brown orbs.

"Madara," she started slowly and sat carefully on the floor, tucking her legs under herself and opening up her arms for a hug that she knew wouldn't come, not from her antisocial introvert of a son.

As predicted, Madara scowled some more and pointedly didn't throw himself into her arms (it didn't sting, not anymore, she had her little Ichigo if she wanted to hug something cute now, but sometimes she still felt quite sad), instead taking a seat across from her and crossing his arms, his right forefinger tapping impatiently against his left arm. He never was for initiating contact but he also didn't like receiving it and it was a little distressing to her.

No matter, she thought, if he didn't want to, she would have to try, like she always did. Masaki sighed and scooted a little closer to him and had to suppress a smile when Madara leaned only slightly away but soon settled.

Masaki took a deep breath, ran her fingers through her son's hair and, ignoring his frown, began, "Have I ever told you about my family?"

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Madara was still sitting in his room an hour after his mother finished telling him about her family and Reishi and Reiryoku and Resists and all those amazing things (like the _giant fucking monsters_ that _ate souls_ , which he could fight, Masaki would have regretted telling him about those if she knew that he wanted to fight them but alas, she didn't know and could still live in blissful ignorance) and all those frightening things (like a _whole fucking organization of Shinigami_ , the only things that he felt vaguely uneasy and unsure about in both lives). For today. She finished telling him for today. Because there was _no way_ that that was it. Madara would _not_ accept that. He wanted to hear whole explanations, examples, everything. He wanted his mother to tell him about everything there was to know about this world because it seemed that there was even more than he could have anticipated.

He was going to learn everything there was to this world, gain control of this energy and he _didn't fucking know_ what he was going to do after that but it certainly wasn't world domination. Not with real-ass Death Gods hovering around and looking over his shoulder. Nope. Not happening. He was so not doing that shit. Not again and not with fucking hundreds of Shinigami around. Not when he knew they could be looking at him and sharpening their scythes or whatever the hell they fought with.

... Fucking Shinigami! What the hell! It was a chilling thought knowing that there is _one_ but here there were whole divisions of those! Fucking. Divisions.

He shook his head. When his mother burst into his room earlier that day, he was deep in meditation, attempting to feel the energy coursing around in this world.

And he succeeded. He succeeded! How amazing was that? The energy in this world was something entirely different from good old Chakra. Chakra coursed through Chakra Paths and was released from the body through Chakra Points. It was utilized with the help of hands seals or (for those with more experience in particular jutsus) without them (and those techniques were more often than not a whole deal weaker than they were when made with seals).

This world's energy was different. It filled the whole body as if the human was a glass and the power was water. It wasn't contained, like Chakra, it was free in a way Madera was unaccustomed to. The energy was wild, unpredictable (like a force of nature), nothing like the honed and ready to draw (like a sharp blade) Chakra.

His mother told him, not everything and not enough, _never_ enough, he wanted to _know_ , he wanted to learn _,_ he wanted to use, to wield, to _fight_! But he was satisfied, for now. Because she promised that she will tell him more. Madara agreed because he wanted to contemplate everything he learned up to this point.

His mother was a very knowledgeable woman and she knew quite a lot about this world and its forces.

For starters, Madara wanted to figure out the three main forces he committed to memory. Reishi, Reiryoku and Reiatsu. He grinned, his usually impassive face transforming into something just a tad bit sinister. He could just feel the fights waiting for him in the future. A shiver ran down his spine and he closed his eyes, smile never leaving his face, he slowly eased himself back into meditation. It would help him sort out all the information he acquired that day from his mother. She was officially his favourite person in this world. Right after his little brother, of course... So nothing changed.

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Something changed. Masaki was now in the third place on his favourite people list. The reason was simple. The second place was taken by two little girls that were his sisters, Yuzu and Karin. He didn't think he would ever love someone besides his little brother and mother (and tolerate Isshin, sometimes, maybe, a _little_ ) but it seemed he was wrong. Because as soon as he saw the twins he could feel himself nearly bursting with happiness and an urge to protect. The same urge he felt whenever he looked at his family (and Izuna, in his previous life). It was a hot, ferocious feeling, a feeling, he noted, that hasn't dulled, no matter the fact that he was no longer Uchiha so he shouldn't feel as strong as he did in his last life. It seemed that his feelings were still incredibly powerful and his emotions were still volatile. He would rather they _piped the fuck_ down because they were mudding his senses and affecting his judgment.

Alas it was not to be, he mused. He was a generally referred to as a hot tempered individual (his clansmen told him that one, back when they still were on his side), he could admit that much (even if grudgingly) and while he could think (he was a genius, of course he could) he preferred solving problems the ninja way. Or _Madara_ way. By fighting, whether it be a psychical fight (breaking bones) or a mental one (breaking minds). He could deal with whichever.

He would much prefer being a fucking oasis of calm and peace, like Hashirama, whenever he could actually _shut up_. He would prefer being able to identify his emotions and deal with them like a normal person.

However, he was an Uchiha so his only options were complete shutting down of emotions, which required training and special conditioning, or hiding behind a blank face, while slowly cracking inside. But Uchiha, despite what outsiders liked to think about them, were a clan that loved their children (they loved fiercely and desperately and with _so much_ fervor that it wouldn't be out of place in a mentally unstable person, but they were _all_ psychopathic shinobi anyway so no matter) so they didn't put them through special training that allowed them to lock their emotions away. No, instead they taught how to utilize them. How to turn grief into anger and anger into Chakra and Chakra into fire so hot it burns through the enemies' bones, leaving nothing but ash in their places. They were taught that feelings were _good_ because they allowed them to grow stronger. Losing someone you became attached to made you stronger and made you seek vengeance on the wrong doers. It was supposed to make you more determined and eager to fight. Madara would know. But it was often also spoken of as a _dangerous_ tool. Shinobi who showed their true emotions had people taken away from them when the enemy noticed the lingering glances in the direction of the ones they loved and took advantage of it. So the Uchiha were schooled in being able to hide, to evade and to lie about anything regarding their emotions. Usually, every member just learned the classic Uchiha default face and that was it.

So Madara would have _really_ appreciated it if his emotions could just stop going haywire, please? But _of course_ not. He was reborn with the ability to use Chakra and his Sharingan so it wasn't so strange that his curse followed him. Just disappointing.

Madara huffed, irritation bleeding to the surface for a moment and showing on his face. He rubbed his bloodshot eyes (he didn't sleep too well) and combed his fingers through his hair. He rolled his shoulders and stood up from his crouch on the mossy ground.

He was currently in a forest, away from Karakura, on one of the little islands surrounding Japan. He choose this one because it had a big forest with the trees reminiscent of those around Konoha, good for sleeping on and even better for hiding. There was a resort on the island, one Madara wasn't overly concerned with as he already wrapped his training grounds in so much Genjutsu and set around so many traps that hardly anyone would ever arrive nearer than 5 kilometers away from him.

He choose an island that wasn't too far away from his home so he could get there immediately if he was needed. He said immediately because he figured out the seal Tobirama (the blasted motherfucker) and the blond one (was that Fourth Hokage, he _never_ wouldn't have guessed if not for the big, fucking advertisement the man wore on his back and _how arrogant!_ , he thought primly and sniffed, even he, _Uchiha Madara_ didn't wear a banner proclaiming his name on it anywhere on his person (he willfully ignored the fact that _if_ in his times such were available, he _totally_ would have worn a cool cloak with his name on it)) were using in the fight against Obito, Juubi and him. They used it certainly enough times for him to memorize the seal matrix. Really, he needed to see it only once to commit it to memory and draw from it but it was nice that they were practically flinging the jutsu around the battlefield (or at least the blond was, what with his kunai and whatnot and Tobirama, the _prissy_ _smartass_ , didn't use kunai that could easily be taken and examined) for him to ponder upon the seal and not immediately dismiss it as useless.

Because he left a clone at home. A fucking clone. A Shadow Clone. Blergh! Another one of Tobirama's techniques... Was he coming down with something? He could feel himself turning green at the thought of using those jutsus but at the same time a weak smirk crawled in his lips. He was using that ponce's techniques. A weak chuckle escaped his lips, the Senju bastard must be turning in his grave. And Hashirama must be laughing his ass off.

He placed the seal in his room in Karakura and left another one on his clone, to use in case of emergency or if the clone thought it was going to disperse. But Madara packed so much chakra into his double that he doubted anything besides a fatal blow would disperse him.

Anyway, Madara was on a training trip. Without permission. He was technically supposed to be home right now, sleeping or doing some other useless nonsense. Because he was _grounded_. By his _mother_. His previous training trip ended in him being grounded because he disappeared for a whole day without asking for permission. In his old world he didn't need a permission to go training! Everyone knew that there was no time for them to waste it upon sitting at home or in the camp. Everyone trained and no one had anything against that. He knew that he was in a different world but he thought nothing will happen if he went away for a little.

Apparently, he was wrong. His mother called the police and was ready to mobilize the whole neighbourhood to search for her missing son. Isshin told him, while blubbering and teary-eyed, that she was ready to get the army and special military forces involved. He himself had even called in his old acquaintances and thanks to that Madara met Urahara Kisuke once more when Isshin took him to the man's shop. There was also another blond in there, his hair was straight and short but not messy and his teeth were white and shiny. A little too big, which made his smile seem slightly disturbing and sinister. A flash of the Taijutsu master he faced before his death, the one with the caterpillar eyebrows and a bowlcut (and oh god, was that a trend in Konoha or something? Hashirama's hair was bad but he eventually grew it out and looked decently enough but the man, what was his name again? Gai, was it? The man had those humongous eyebrows and the awful bowlcut, his hair being shiny didn't improve the image at all. It actually made it even worse. If Madara was one to feel embarrassed he would have felt a secondhand embarrassment for the man. But he wasn't so he didn't.). The man had too shining teeth and liked flashing them around. It was quite disturbing.

Hirako Shinji was the man's name. He ruffled Madara's hair, expression not changing in the slightest and asked a few pointed questions of him. Firstly, he asked, in a very nice and friendly tone of voice, _where was he?_ And Madara answered, confused, that he didn't really know. And that was true. The little island he found was east of Tokyo but he wasn't interested in knowing its name so Madara said that he didn't have any idea.

That seemed to disturb the man a little because his brown eyes narrowed and he exchanged a meaningful look with Isshin, who looked unsettled, and Urahara who tugged his stripped hat further down, lips thinning.

Another question, _was he alone there?_ Madara frowned, remembering the resort located on the island and said no. The blond, whose smile got smaller and smaller with each second, looked at him seriously and asked one more question, was he forced to go there by someone? Madara said no (nobody pressured him into training, he wanted to do it so he did, unfortunately Madara being himself didn't say that, answering all the questions as swiftly and shortly as possible). And that opened a whole different can of worms. Madara, still not understanding, having lived with shinobi mindset since his first birth, titled his head and stared at the two blondes rounding on Isshin. Well, creepy Shinji was yelling at him while Urahara (he was creepy too) was smiling and waving his fan around, hitting Isshin a few times, and generally being a nuisance. Both of them were going on and on about teaching children not to trust strangers and useless fathers and _Isshin you moronic fuck, what are you teaching those kids?_

Madara, while normally a fan of making his father cringle away in pain or cry because of an insult, frowned and asked what was wrong. He immediately regretted that decision as the man shot out another question. Did he see a man in glasses? Nerdy glasses? And curly brown hair? Seems that he has rainbows, glitter and unicorns shooting out of his ass but in reality is an evil motherfucker?

His answer, which was a no to all of those questions seemed to calm the man down. Then, there was no time for asking more questions because his mother barged through the door to the shop and swooped Madara in her arms, hugging him so tight that he actually could feel a few ribs nearly cracking.

She was hysterical when she stopped crying and placed him on house arrest for a month and went back to crying. When the last of her sniffles died, she, Isshin and the two blonds gave Madara a stranger danger talk. Madara was annoyed, it wasn't like anyone could hurt him. If anyone was to do the hurting, it would be Madara himself! But he didn't say that and sullenly sat through the whole lecture.

Then his mother spent the next day watching him like a hawk. He was insulted. A month! He wouldn't have complained if she spent that time showing him all her cool tricks and whatnot but she declined teaching him for that month. And how could she? Why would she? She knew that otherwise he wouldn't have anything to focus his mind upon and slowly turn into a vegetable with lack of mental gymnastics. He nearly begged her to teach him how to use a bow, after she showed him her bow, made of fucking _Reishi_ (how crazy _was_ that?), he was practically foaming at the mouth, he wanted to learn how to do that. But she refused and he snapped. He must train to get stronger, he had no time to laze at home and do nothing!

He said exactly that and stomped away to his room, rigging his window open a bit and leaving behind a clone. His mother never even noticed. He was a ninja and she practically a civilian, of course she wouldn't notice. Nevertheless, he was a little proud of that.

So here he was, two days later, with a pack of clothes, food and a few weapons he borrowed from people he bumped into in the streets. Alright, so he technically stole them of some thugs. But they certainly didn't plan on using it for anything good! He was doing everyone a favour!

So he was going to learn how to use a gun. He picked one up and examined it curiously, thinking that his mother would have had an aneurysm, if only she saw him now. But well, what his mother can't see, won't kill her. And she thought that he was right beneath her nose so there was no harm.

Madara squinted into the barrel, fingers toying with the trigger, he would like to see how that works but first, he turned the weapon away from his face and aimed at the circle he drew on a tree some twenty meters away, the gun held in two small hands, he wanted to learn how to shoot.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary:** Where the Sage is a meddling old geezer and Madara is a Kurosaki.

 **Disclaimer:** Neither Naruto nor Bleach is mine.

 **Warnings:** Language, shinobi and Madara.

 **Rating:** T

 **Author's Note:** Dunno, a little Isshin, Kisuke and Shinji POV. Let me know what you think. Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to ya all. And, of course, the most important, Happy Birthday, Madara! If you see any mistakes, please kindly point them out to me.

 **Word Count:** 2924

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 **Chapter 4**

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Isshin may be a little obtuse and oblivious to some things but he didn't become a Shinigami Captain for his good looks and charming smile. Although it may have helped a little, who knows, who knows... But getting back on track, Isshin wasn't stupid. He knew that his son wasn't entirely normal and he acknowledged that.

Madara was anything but a normal little kid. The boy was incredibly intelligent, quick to catch on and all together he was a little prodigy. In that, he was similar to Kaien, really... On second thought, not only was his genius similar but his looks as well. He wasn't a complete replica, what with his pitch black hair and dark grey eyes in opposition to Kaien's purplish locks and emerald orbs. But he was similar and so was Ichigo, Isshin frowned. If only one of them held those looks it may have been explained as a coincidence but the both of them looking so like Shiba Kaien may prove to be troublesome.

It may cause some problems in the future. They looked so much like the dead lieutenant of the Thirteenth that some people may start asking questions. Uncomfortable ones. Like, why do they look like they come from the Shiba clan and such.

Isshin shook his head. No matter, he would figure it out as he went, with some help from Kisuke. He looked down to see the sight that hasn't changed for the last ten minutes, Madara was sitting opposite him at the kitchen table and drilling holes in the table with his glare alone. He chuckled, drawing his son's attention to him. He could practically feel the heat of those dark accusing eyes.

"It is a good lesson, my son." He exclaimed with good cheer, "It taught you that your mother's anger is a sight to behold. Especially when it originates from fear." He nodded sagely to himself and went back to drinking his coffee. The kitchen was silent, Madara's lips stayed sealed but were pressed into a flat line. Isshin didn't mind, he knew his son and he knew that patience was the key. You had to be patient with him so that he could carefully gather his thoughts and select the ones he wanted to voice out loud. Or he could just not answer. It depended. On many things. Like his mood, the weather, the temperature, whether his peers annoyed him or not and of course, perhaps the most important one, whether Madara wanted to say something or didn't want to say anything at all.

This time waiting patiently, while pretending not to (because sometimes Madara was just spiteful enough to walk away when someone, most likely Isshin, is waiting for a response, Isshin now knows that he needs to make himself look busy and not push it), worked out.

"Why was mother so angry?" Was the quiet demand, his son's voice frustrated. That was something odd about Madara, too. While he was a genius, sometimes he was confused by the most basic of things. He just didn't understand why something was the way it was.

It happened a lot more often when he was younger but that was a normal thing for children. What was unusual was Madara's near obsessive need to know. Why was the toaster working? How was it working? Electricity? What is that? How does it work? But while other children eventually stop asking, Madara was persistent. He demanded books on the inner workings of the TV stationed in their living room, having read the instructions already.

And while their son somewhat satisfied his knowledge of the world around them, he was still very much confused, Isshin knew. Confused about people. Oh, he could hide it very well but Isshin really didn't become a captain being unobservant. He saw the silent question in Madara's eyes whenever Masaki encouraged him to make friends. The narrowing of his eyes when some children invited him to play some games with them and the derisive words that followed smoothly soon after, almost like a knee-jerk reaction to something unknown. To something he didn't know how to deal with.

It was a kick to the gut to recognize those things as marks of a sociopath. Even though it didn't make sense because sociopaths were created when they had negative contact with others and their family was anything but negative.

But Madara often ignored the social norms, it was like he almost didn't realize that they existed. Or realized but decided to just not acknowledge them. And although Isshin was glad when his son showed that he was very much a fighting prodigy, the fact that he didn't feel any remorse about beating up other kids to near unconsciousness was rather disturbing.

Still, Isshin decided that he wouldn't touch that subject with a ten-foot metal pole as long as Madara didn't change. Because he intereacted with the rest of the family just fine, if a little withdrawn.

And although there was this possessive look in his eyes when he looked at them all, Isshin cautiously thought that perhaps it was good. Madara's sometimes odd behavior, his reluctance to psychical contact but at the same time yearning for it may have made no sense a few years back but Madara was his son. Isshin knew his sons. He knew that in reality Madara was an introvert but he needed some positive contact too. And he sometimes needed to vent and so Isshin made himself a perfect target because he knew that Madara's sharpness would be bad for Masaki, would damage Ichigo and the girls. So he decided to take it on himself. The negative emotions and the frustration. He could tell that Madara had absolutely no idea, thinking him just a cheerful and happy-go-lucky fool, and while he was that, while some part of it was true, the majority of it, the dramatic reactions, the tears, the loudness, were all exaggerated. Masaki caught on quite quickly, giving him exasperated glances that soon turned into thoughtful ones and then ones full if gratefulness. She knew that Madara could hurt her with his words alone and knew that Isshin had thick skin and could endure insults and turn them into a funny squabble between himself and his son.

Isshin didn't mind. He knew that behind the grumpiness and the smirks and the silences, Madara loved them with a burning passionate love that Isshin was surprised to find in someone so young. But maybe, the rare theory about some souls getting to be reborn after passing on in Soul Society (instead of becoming part of it) were true and Madara was one such soul. He certainly sounded old, what with his exasperated huffs and grumbling about 'kids and their infinite amount of energy' whenever Ichigo wanted to play with him.

"Well?" He was thrown out of his silent musings when his son's voice, sharp with irritation and impatience, sounded from across the table.

"Your mom was worried and scared for you. She thought something happened to you. She thought someone harmed you. " He explained, making eye contact to convey the seriousness of the situation. "You should always tell her where you're going so that she will know where to find you."

Madara's eyes cleared somewhat, explanation for the weird behavior of his mother acquired. He nodded and made to stand but his Isshin took that exact moment to voice something out, "I was worried too."

Madara tensed and then instantly relaxed. He looked up and his eyes met Isshin's and then quickly flickered over his face, taking in the furrowed brows and the grim line that was formed by his mouth. He slowly eased himself back into his seat and although his expression was blank, Isshin learned that to know how his son truly felt you only needed to look him in the eye.

And there was surprise and astonishment there. And then, slowly, warmth crept into those expressive, the lines around them relaxed as Madara huffed out a breath, something like a 'thank you' passing those pale lips. And Isshin smiled, accepting the quiet words.

And then started tearing up about his cold, cold son who didn't even acknowledge the fact that his daddy worried. He saw Madara's previously slightly hunched shoulders relax, and heard a snort escape him. But the snort was amused and full of long-suffering exasperation that came after knowing each other and feeling good in each other's company.

Isshin reveled in that, feeling accomplished and happy.

Isshin knew that Madara was keeping secrets from them. Knew that those secrets were big. But he didn't realize that those secrets were possibly bigger than even Aizen's.

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Kisuke didn't really have anything interesting to do since he was thrown out of Soul Society. Of course, there were his side projects such as getting an illegal gate to his old world and keeping tabs on Aizen but those lost their novelty with time. And Kisuke, as the genius that he was, bored even faster so he tried to entertain himself by any means necessary.

Isshin's boy was one of such entertainments.

He was at first interested in any possible offspring a Shinigami and a Quincy may produce so his curiosity was perfectly normal. But he didn't get to meet Isshin's sons until they were both four and two years old. Were he a normal, boring and unimaginative fool that Soul Society seems to be full of (maybe he had a bit of a grudge against them, no one could blame him), he would have immediately dismissed the older boy as soon as he felt his below average levels of Reiryoku and his younger brother's near monstrous levels of it. But Kisuke was anything but unimaginative, he was nothing like those close-minded idiots from up there. So he stalled his judgement. And he wasn't disappointed. Oh, he definitely wasn't.

Maybe that first visit wouldn't have told anyone else anything import_ant besides the fact that Isshin's eldest was a little rude and ignorant of (or ignoring) social norms. He grunted as a greeting and just sort of stared at everything, while looking out of the corner of his eye or from beneath his fringe at Kisuke. He was quite good, Kisuke had to admit, but Kisuke himself was one of the best in the art of subtlety. And to be honest, Kisuke was aware that the boy knew he was caught staring but he stubbornly continued doing exactly that.

It was truly fascinating since while Kisuke knew that he wasn't the most intimidating, he could be. And he was an adult and a stranger to boot. Most people, even older ones, would have been embarrassed when caught and stopped. But he didn't detect even a shred of embarrassment or guilt from the child.

The second thing that caught his attention was the intelligence in those dark eyes. There was suspicion in there as well. And wariness as well.

Thirdly, the boy behaved like one of the Second Division fighters, his steps were silent, his movements sharp with precision.

Kisuke was just the slightest bit impressed. With that blank face one would think the kid to be trained drop a young age as an assassin or something.

He concluded that fairly quickly and decided to react accordingly. When he drew the boy into conversation, he talked to him like an equal and didn't use baby language because he knew that if he himself was in the boy's place, he wouldn't have been happy with the simpering and cooing. He figured that, as he himself was once upon a time a child prodigy, even if it was as a soul and in Soul Society, Madara would appreciate the fact that he was treating him as an equal.

And when the boy still didn't want to talk, Kisuke returned to talking with Masaki and making subtle jabs at Isshin while pretending to get along with him just fine. He could tell that Isshin knew by the exasperated glances the man was throwing his way the whole time. But Madara was biased and knew his father only as a particularly obtuse man, who liked making an idiot out of himself. He saw that and didn't question how his father was smart enough to become a legitimate doctor. He only saw what he wanted to see, as he didn't expect to be deceived by those close to him, especially his father.

So the boy only saw him poking fun at Isshin and thought it hilarious, making connection between himself and Kisuke as those with the same purpose of making Isshin look dumb.

Kisuke thought it was great. And when Isshin noticed the admiring gaze his son sent Kisuke, he groaned and Kisuke thought it was even better.

He remembered when Isshin called him and frantically informed him that his son was missing. His elder, grumpy prodigy of a son. It was a disaster. The last time the boy was seen was last day, when Masaki was tucking him into bed (although it was less tucking and more arguing with his mother that he didn't want or need so much sleep, Isshin added, a little hysterical laugh escaping him).

The first thing that came to Kisuke's mind was, of course, Aizen. Aizen kidnapped the boy, the hybrid between a Shinigami and a Quincy (-Hollow). The man took him and would use him to get the Hougyoku. He would propose an exchange... No! He would train the boy and make him obedient and eager to please his master.

All those thoughts and more ran through his mind with the speed of Yoruichi-san's Shunko. Kisuke immediately called Shinji and told him that Isshin's hybrid of a kid was maybe, possibly, a little, kidnapped. By Aizen.

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Shinji had never Shunpo'd that fast in his life. The blond arrived at Kisuke's place ruffled, his, usually perfect, hair tangled from his travel, brown eyes cold.

Shinji was visibly disturbed but when looking at their surroundings, where there were no other Visored, he didn't tell the others, not sure if the information was truth.

"What is happening?" He asked, gaze sliding between Isshin and Kisuke himself. Kisuke decided to explain, as Isshin was gazing out the window with dimmed eyes and mouth a grim slash on his unusually pale face. When he finished telling Shinji about what happened, they all sat in silence for a few moments and Kisuke busied himself with preparing some more tea, seeing as the one he made for Isshin and himself has long since gone cold. The Shiba was still holding the cup though, his grip tight, almost grounding him to reality.

"You tried searching for him?" Came the question although it was more of a statement. Shinji almost winced when the cup of tea Isshin was nursing cracked and burst in the man's fist. His dark eyes were, furious, like the fires of his Zanpakuto from before he still had his Zanpakuto, and trained on Shinji's own eyes.

The kettle started whistling loudly and the staredown stopped and Kisuke mentally thanked the Soulking for getting him an out of the awkward situation. Although he immediately regretted it as after he poured the water into the cups and arranged them neatly on the tray which he set in the middle of his table, the atmosphere became even more tense.

Finally, Isshin sighed, "He is nowhere near Karakura. His Reiryoku, weak as it is, can still be tracked down if he's anywhere in town. But we can't now so he's obviously out of town."

"So what can we do?" Asked Shinji, after digesting that information. His answer was a grim "We wait." from Urahara. Well, damn.

It took another few hours before the kid just suddenly appeared on one of Kisuke's scanners. It picked his characteristic muted signature in the local park and heading home. The there of them immediately scrambled to follow and intercept the boy.

Shinji banged Isshin's head into the table of the idiot's kitchen, muttering about stupidity and irresponsibility. He thought that the Shiba matured somewhat what with the fact that he had a family to take care of. He was obviously wrong. He didn't even mention the dangers of the Human World to the boy. Even in Soul Society kids knew not to talk to strangers.

He sighed, released the spiky black hair (Isshin banged his head a few more times after he let him go, he thought with exasperation) and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He looked down at the boy's confused face and had a sudden urge to bash Isshin's face one more time. He stifled it and ruffled the boy's hair instead, silently marvelling at the fact that he looked like mini Kaien. He was that similar. It was slightly creepy. He would have taken him as Kaien or even his son if not for the eyes which were grey (all Isshin, he thought) instead of green and the attitude of an exasperated grandpa and a bristling teenager in one (that... must have been something personally him, because Isshin behaved like a five year old and Masaki like a responsible mother meshed with a bit of a squealing schoolgirl). He smiled and quietly mused to himself that the kid was great fun and the Visored would have taken a great liking to him. He knew that he already did.

He glanced down at the sour face of the boy, who was bristling beneath his touch like some offended cat and laughed. Oh, he certainly did like the boy.

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End file.
